


Swords of Man

by harrylee94



Series: Emissaries of Erebor [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrylee94/pseuds/harrylee94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'King Under the Mountain'. It has been twenty years since the reclaiming of the Lonely Mountain, and while Kili and Fili journey Middle Earth as ambassadors, the world continue to grow darker around them. When they are invited to join the celebration of a royal birth, things begin to turn sour as the animosity between men brings the threat of war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And the Journey Leads On

Time passed like the flow of an endless river; never pausing or waiting, just flowing ever onwards as the seasons came and went. Fields were sewn and harvested in the blink of an eye, and the old gave way to the new as was the natural order of things.

In Rohan, Fengel, son of Folcwine, fifteenth ruler of his kingdom and renowned for his gluttony and pride, died of old age, leaving the Mark in the hands of his son, Thengel, who had been forced to return from Gondor with his young family, as he was the sole heir to the throne. In the very same year, Ecthelion, son of Turgon, took up the mantle of Ruling Steward of Gondor, shortly after Saruman the White had claimed Isengard as his own, which he was powerless to prevent.

The dwarves of the Lonely Mountain had not only rebuilt their crumbling walls, but rebuilt their city to become the most impenetrable stronghold in the North. Dáin Ironfoot had abandoned his title of Lord of the Iron Hills along with the mountains themselves, as his people had moved to join him in Erebor, while those of the Blue Mountains remained as they always had, their cities locked deep underground, remaining hidden from all but their own kind.

However, those who resided in the trees remained untarnished by the tides of change and remained unmoved by the tales of men, their eyes fixed upon a dark power that had re-emerged from the shadows of Dol Guldur and slunk back into Mordor from whence it came.

Such matters were not yet of any concern to a certain pair of Ambassadors as they travelled, their minds occupied with lighter tidings and the daily confusions that would arise between dwarves, elves and men.

Fíli and Kíli, emissaries to the King under the Mountain, had spent the past two decades travelling across the vast expanses of plains, woodlands and mountain ranges of Middle Earth, and though they had not been affected by the years as men were, they had still changed.

Physically, there was barely any difference at all. Fíli's cut across his right cheek had formed into a thick white line, scarring his features, though he could still be considered handsome by most women of any race. His shoulders had broadened slightly and his strength increased, but it wasn't visible through the layers of clothes he wore.

Kíli was still a little leaner than most dwarves, and his shoulders had not broadened as his brother's had, his skills lying with the bow more than the sword, but he had grown a little, becoming about half an inch taller than Fíli. Also unlike his brother, he refused to braid his hair unless it was a formal occasion, and even then only if he had been convinced to do so.

The blonde mane of Fíli's hair had grown in length and lost some of its wildness, as had the dark locks of his brother, but they had denied their faces the chance to bear the beards that seemed to be expected of their kind. At first it was in grief; the unwillingness to release the memories from their grasp, but then it came as a sign of respect.

Though the facial hair that covered Fíli's cheeks hadn't changed, excepting his moustache that had grown slightly in length, Kíli's chin, which had once been bare, was now covered in the dark shadow of a beard, not dis-similar to that of his Uncle, Thorin Oakenshield, who now lay in the eternal sleep under the Mountain he had ruled, if only briefly.

But beneath all that, it had been their journeys that had changed the brothers most of all. From the hidden cities in the Ered Luin to the splendorous halls of Mount Erebor, the mystic glades of Mirkwood to the thundering shores of the Grey havens, and back across the grim Misty Mountains to the sturdy villages of the Beornings at the great river, following the Anduin across the wide plains of Rohan to Gondor and the white city of Minas Tirith herself, they had travelled, watched and learned.

Their travels had taken them to almost every corner of the map; preventing conflicts, starting trading relations and building the bridges of friendship between their nations, as had been both their duty and their joy, and though they had been held with a great distrust and suspicion at first, after many years of patience, observance and their steadfast honesty, they had gained the trust and respect of many.

As it was, the pair had been invited to the Hall of Meduseld, the Golden hall of Edoras, by none other than King Thengel himself to celebrate the birth of his fourth child; a strong and healthy girl.

It had been some ten years since Thengel had taken up the Throne after returning from Gondor, and his eldest child, Théoden, had grown from a stumbling toddler into an energetic, playful young boy, using his wooden sword to cause mischief and trouble in the kitchens and halls. Knowing that disasters were going to become far more likely with the arrival of the two dwarves, Thengel had taken extra precautions.

The gates of the city lay open to the pair as they led their ponies into the stronghold in the summer's midday sun, their mounts tired from the long ride it took to arrive at Edoras from the Grey Havens. They were all but exhausted from the journey themselves, but their cheer and high spirits kept their infectious energy at a high. As they crossed the threshold into the city, they were instantly set upon by a crowd of children.

Though it had been almost a year since either of them had set foot in the city's bounds, none of its inhabitants had forgotten them, the youngsters especially so. They may have grown in many ways, but their playful, mischievous quirks had far from vanished, and it had made them especially popular amongst the youngsters.

On one of the occasions they had visited the court of the Rohirrim, the pair had not only been able to convince the children that there was a dragon in the larder, but also that it could turn into anything that looked golden in colour; no one had cheese for a week, and the doors to the kitchens became well-guarded.

Most of the children who had been involved in the prank were currently swarming them, along with several others who just enjoyed their stories, the air filled with excited questions and exclamations as their parents smiled after them.

It took them a while, but eventually Fíli and Kíli made it to the base of the stairs that led up to Meduseld, telling their admirers that they would answer their questions later, as they had to visit their King before anything else.

Reluctantly, the kids went back to their parents, leaving the dwarves to lead their ponies into the stables and release them from their saddles and packs. Leaving them with the stable hands to brush over, they headed up to the great hall atop the hill.

Giving themselves a once over, they straightened their coats and belts and shifted the packs they held over their shoulders. Nodding to the doorwarden that they were ready, they watched as the great doors were opened to them.

"Lords Fíli and Kíli of Mount Erebor, my Lord," the doorwarden declared as they stepped into the cool shade of the building.

The halls had not changed since the last time they had visited. The intricately carved pillars had not lost their sheen or colour, the fire still roaring as men sat about it and told tales of their battles, and the banners bearing the white stallion of the house of Eorl hung behind the Throne, upon which sat a blonde haired man, flanked by a young boy and a woman with the ebony locks of her people, holding a babe to her chest.

Thengel stood, a broad smile gracing his features. "My friends! I am so glad that you could come."

"We would not have missed it for the world," Fíli replied as he and his brother stopped in front of the King.

"Is this your daughter?" Kíli asked, his eyes fixing on the child in Morwen's arms.

"It is indeed," she replied, letting the baby clutch at her finger.

"And a beautiful child she is. She looks just like you."

Morwen laughed. "Aye, but she has her father's hair and temperament. It is quite impossible to get her to do anything!"

Thengel groaned, rubbing his face. "I had forgotten how much attention a child needs at this age. I am quite sure she wishes us to never get a wink of sleep ever again."

The dwarves smiled. "Such is the way of the world when children are involved," Fíli said, "Kíli was no worse once."

"Hey!" his brother cried, giving his sibling a playful push, only causing him to laugh.

Shaking his head, the King ushered some of his guards over with a wave. "Franwulf and Aethaine will help take your belongings to your room where you can prepare for tonight's celebrations. I'm afraid that it's all I can offer you, as we will have other guests arriving shortly, but hot water has been prepared for you if you wish to wash, and food has been provided. I don't doubt that you will wish to rest after your long journey."

Thanking him and promising to return before the sun had set, they bowed and followed the two men towards their room, glad that they didn't have to carry the heavy packs that they would probably be dragging along the floor had it not been for the guards.

Their room was of average size, and two beds had been constructed and pushed against the wall while two wooden tubs of steaming hot water sat behind a set of screens to give them more privacy.

Once they had been left to their own devices, their packs being left at the foot of one of the beds, they stripped of their dirty clothes, removed their weapons to leave them on the table, and washed before heading to bed, thankful for the soft, clean sheets and their cleanest clothes, and they soon drifted off to sleep, blissfully ignorant of what was soon to come.


	2. Tall tales

Kíli woke to the sound of a knock on the door. It was polite and slow, so there was no rush to answer it. Pulling himself up from his pillow and groaning slightly at the lost warmth his covers had provided, he made his way past his dozing brother to answer.

Opening the door, he found one of the men who had led them to the room earlier, though he couldn't remember his name. Was it Franwell? Fronwool?

"Good evening," he said, trying to stifle a yawn, "or is it still afternoon?"

"I was told to inform you that the celebrations will begin in an hour," the man informed him, ignoring the question.

Nodding slowly, the dwarf pursed his lips. "So… evening then."

The man blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Apology accepted," Kíli replied with a smile. The man simply continued to stare at him in confusion. Sighing, he moved his weight onto his right foot, "I asked you if it was evening or afternoon."

"Oh… I must not have heard you."

The dwarf frowned, noticing the slightly pink shade of the man's cheeks. "Have you been drinking?"

The guard remained silent, though his jaw moved as though he was biting the inside of his mouth.

A mischievous grin began to grow on his face. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

The man relaxed considerably. "Thank you, sir."

"My pleasure. And don't call me sir! It makes me feel old," he replied, looking over his shoulder at the figure beginning to stir under the covers, "We'll be about half an hour or so."

Bowing, the guard left, and Kíli shut the door behind him as he turned to his sleeping brother. Taking a moment to consider how to wake him up, the younger dwarf turned back to the tubs and tested the water. It was cold. Perfect!

Picking up the bucket that had been left there so they could wash their hair, he scooped up some of the water and, taking it over to Fíli…

The blonde haired dwarf spluttered as he tried to wipe the liquid from his face, spitting out what had found its way into his open mouth. "K-Kíli!"

"What?" he asked innocently, hiding the bucket behind his back.

Fíli scowled at him, seeing through the harmless façade with ease. "What in Durin's name is wrong with you?"

Kíli shrugged. "A guard said we've got an hour before the celebrations begin. I thought you might want to be awake when it started."

"That was very considerate of you," the blonde haired dwarf said through gritted teeth. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, the elder pushed himself off of his mattress. "Well, I suppose we'd better get ready then."

Kíli nodded and backed towards his end of the room, trying to keep the look of sheer glee from his face.

Seeing as it wasn't exactly a formal occasion, the blue tunics and royal vestments that had been carefully stored in their packs remained where they were and they pulled old, yet clean, garments, smoothing out the wrinkles as much as they could.

Belts buckled and hair and beards combed into something which resembled order, the pair slipped one or two knives into the folds of their jackets and made their way down the corridor to the main hall, leaving the majority of their weaponry and leather armour where they had dumped it some hours before.

The hall of Meduseld had changed somewhat since they had left; the fire which had been burning in the centre of the walkway had been extinguished and moved, several tables had been set out in between the pillars and the animal fat candles in the chandeliers and candelabras had been replaced by fresh white wax ones.

The men who had been sat telling stories in plain sight were now hidden at the sides, though their laughter would occasionally drift across the room, causing curious eyes to turn their way. There were several guests who had already arrived, including Morwen's parents, who were scattered across the hall in small groups, a happy buzz in the air as their conversations centred round the new member of the royal line of Rohan.

The name of the young princess had yet to have been announced to anyone outside of the family, and it seemed that no amount of pestering was going to sway them into spilling their secret before it was time.

It didn't take the two of them long to find King Thengel, as he was sat close to where two of his children were playing. Although Théoden was his only male heir, he had also had two daughters before the babe that was being cradled in her mother's arms. Théodrai was too young for celebrations such as this, and was already in bed, but Théodwyr was cheerfully playing with her brother, running around the tables and chairs, her doll held high above her head.

As she turned back towards her parents, her eyes widened as she caught sight of the dwarves. "Fíli! Kíli!"

Running past the astonished adults, she flung herself into Fíli's arms.

"Hello Théodwyr!" the blonde dwarf wheezed, the air having been knocked out of him from the child's impact, "How you've gotten heavy since the last time I saw you!"

The young girl giggled, dropping back onto her feet as she released him.

Théoden was a little more held back than his sister, as he had met them as they had entered Meduseld, though that didn't stop Kíli from gasping on contact.

Laughing, Thengel came to stand behind his offspring, pulling them back to allow his guests a chance to breathe. "I see that you have returned from your rest!"

Bowing, Fíli smiled. "And a very comfortable rest it was. And would have been for a while longer had it not been for an unexpected bath which fell from thin air," he said, sending his brother an accusing look, who seemed to have found something of great interest on the ceiling.

Laughing once again, the King patted the older sibling on the back and moved back to the table, inviting them to sit with him. Accepting his offer, the two left the children to their games and settled themselves down opposite their host.

"So!" Thengel exclaimed, clapping his hands together, "It has been some months, almost a year, since you were last in Rohan. Tell me, what have you been doing since I saw you last? What tales have you to tell?"

"Ah…" Fíli said, scratching the back of his head, "I have to apologise for leaving your hospitality on such short notice the last time we were here."

The King shook his head. "It is nothing you should apologise for. I'm sure you would not have had to leave so quickly were it anything but vital that you were there."

The blonde dwarf smiled and nodded his thanks. "Indeed it was. It seemed that some of the dwarves in the Blue Mountains had um… borrowed something of great importance to the elves of the Grey Havens."

Kíli scoffed. "Borrowed… They stole the phial of Gilen'aeron they use to build their ships!"

"Gilen…?" the man asked, confusion written in the creasing of his brow.

"Star of the Sea," the young dwarf explained, "The elves use it to bless their ships so that they can reach the Undying Lands."

Thengel nodded his comprehension.

"Well, of course, Círdan, the Lord of Lindon, the Grey Havens, was not pleased with this," Fíli continued, "and it was safe to say that tensions were building between the two."

"I still can't believe he has a beard," Kíli suddenly exclaimed, "I didn't even know elves could grow them!"

"It did suit him though, didn't it?"

The brunet pursed his lips and nodded slightly, looking up in thought.

"Anyway, by the time my brother and I got there, they were at each other's throats; the elves were threatening to destroy their mountain stone by stone, and the dwarves, who refused to admit their theft, said that if they even set one foot on their land, they would burn the Grey harbour to the ground. It was likely that they would have acted upon these threats had things continued on as they had."

"But, why couldn't the elves just let them keep it, or smash it?" the Lord of Rohan asked, "Surely they could just make more instead of starting a war over one small thing."

"Ah, but the Star of the Sea is needed to bless the waters which will become the celeb-calad; the silver light. Without it the ships would never find their way across the sundering seas. It is said that the Gilen'aeron holds a little of the very light of the first stars, and thus its light is beyond anything we know in this time and age."

"Then how did they make it in the first place?"

Fíli opened his mouth to answer, but found that he didn't know himself. Frowning, he closed his mouth.

His brother, on the other hand, just smiled cheerfully and laughed at his discomfort and confusion. "You weren't listening when they told us, were you."

The blonde dwarf mumbled something as his cheeks turned a bright red.

Shaking his head, Kíli turned his attention back to the tale. "It is one of the artefacts they brought across the seas before the first age even began. Some say it was one of the great High Elven smiths who made it, Fëanor. He was their greatest and most gifted. It was irreplaceable and highly guarded, though the elves didn't think of guarding it from children it seems…"

Thengel's eyes widened. "This whole ordeal was because of a child?!"

Kíli nodded. "Glaug's son, uh, he's the leader of the dwarves of the Blue Mountains, had wandered off when his father was meeting with Círdan and found it. He's no more than fifteen summers old I don't think. He probably just thought it was a pretty stone or something and put it in his pocket when the guards weren't looking. He kept it hidden in his toy box I think."

"So… the dwarves didn't know of the theft. As far as they knew, they were telling the truth."

"And so you see what our predicament was," Fíli said, his face a slightly lighter shade of pink now, "The elves knew it had to have been a dwarf, as no other had been to the harbour before they noticed its disappearance…"

"And the dwarves, being dwarves, took offence to being told that they were suspects," his brother continued, "So when I went to ask them about the matter, well…"

"How long did you stay in that cell? Three, four days?"

Kíli groaned. "Two weeks."

"Two weeks!" Fíli exclaimed playfully, earning a punch in the arm.

"Yeah! While you were all nice and cosy with the elves with a soft bed and good food, I was stuck in a dungeon with a pile of straw and some mouldy bread, if I was lucky. They even broke my bow! Said it was an insult to bring an elven weapon into the mountain!"

"But, a bow is an elven weapon."

"… Shut up!"

Thengel laughed at the boyish argument. Even though the two of them were older than him, they still acted like children sometimes. "I would have thought that they would have been more careful with the ambassador or King Dáin Ironfoot."

"Well I would have thought so too, but it would appear that I was wrong," Kíli said, resting his hands on the table, "But it did come in handy. Glauri, Glaug's son, tended to visit me a lot, not that he was allowed to mind you, so it was only for short periods of time so he wouldn't get caught. He liked to ask questions about the rest of Middle Earth and the adventures I'd been on."

"Kind of like what we used to do when we visited Uncle Thorin's forge when we lived there," Fíli said with a sad smile.

"Almost exactly like that," he confirmed, "Eventually, he asked me why I was there, and, once I'd told him everything, he went as white as snow."

"He hadn't even realised it had been his fault that his father's kingdom was on the brink of war, and he was terrified what his da would do should he find out."

"So, the two of us made a deal. If he got me out of the cell and gave me the Gilen'aeron, I wouldn't tell his father what a naughty boy he'd been."

The King of the Rohirrim blinked. "Surely you didn't."

"Oh aye. And I always uphold my word," Kíli replied, his tone completely serious, "Glauri gave me the key to my cell and the Star of the Sea, and I managed to sneak my way out of the mountain."

"How did you do that?"

Fíli snickered. "You forget, we lived there for over seventy years! Kíli and I know almost every way in and out of that place, some of which have not been found since we left."

"Which comes in handy for quick escapes," the younger brother exclaimed with a devious smile, "I got out of those mountains and made it to the Grey harbour before anyone knew I was missing."

"After that, everything just fell into place. Círdan got the Gilen'aeron back, Glaug placed a guard on his son's every move…"

"… since he was told of what had occurred both at the harbour and with Kíli here…"

"… which I thought was ridiculous! Had I known Círdan would tell him I would never have confided in him!"

"Yes well, at least he wasn't forced to go weeks on end without his mother's honey cakes."

Kíli shivered. "I thought I was going to die… And I thought we'd agreed never to speak of that."

"Did we? Oh, I'm sorry," Fíli said with a grin.

"Anyway, once everything had been sorted out, and everyone had apologised… and I got a brand new bow from Círdan, which I have to show you later, we got your message."

"I would suggest choosing a less easily aggravated crow next time though," the blonde haired dwarf said, flinching at the memory, "he nearly took my eye out!"

"Well, crows aren't the best of birds it has to be said," came a strangely familiar voice from behind them, forcing them to turn around.

Eyes opening wide in shock, they barely heard the King as he introduced the man.

"Ah! Fíli, Kíli, allow me to introduce another friend of mine, Thorongil!"

The man bowed. "At yours service, master dwarves."

Glancing at each other, the brothers smirked.

"And we are at yours," they said returning the bow.

If Aragorn wanted to be secretive, then so be it.


	3. A Celebration Inturrupted

Kíli put aside his horn of mead when the skald began to sing the ballad of Eorl the young, the first King of Rohan. It was a good song, plenty of good up-beat rhythms and easy to sing verses, even though he preferred the elven legends and songs, but he knew Fíli liked the story of Eorl's ride to aid Gondor.

As one of the verses came rolling in, several of the guards, who were more than a little tipsy, began to sing, along with a certain blond haired dwarf.

Kíli laughed as he watched his brother sway with the men and slam his drink on the table in time to the beat, much like the others he had surrounded himself with, a huge smile lighting up his features. He probably wasn't altogether sober either, though he was far more lucid than most in the hall.

Fíli had always gotten on well with the men of the south, though Kíli had never been able to understand them himself, and it hadn't taken him long to gain their friendship along with their trust. He himself was much the same with the elves, but the kinship he felt towards them was not shared with his brother. This being the case, a silent agreement had come into place where the elder would be in charge of the matters of men while the younger would be accountable for that of the fair folk.

It was a fruitful accord, as there had they had yet to face an unsolvable problem, though it did become somewhat lonely for the one not in his adopted home sometimes.

Soon, the song came to an end and the loud cheers of the men, and Fíli, filled the hall, waking a previously dozing guardsman who fell in an ungraceful heap on the floor when his stool tipped over, causing the men around him to burst out with laughter.

Shaking his head, Kíli pulled his mead back into his hand and swirled it around before swallowing a mouthful.

"I didn't expect you to be sitting on your own Kíli," came a familiar voice from behind.

"Do you always introduce yourself to the back of someone's head?" he asked before turning around, "It's Thorongil, isn't it?"

Aragorn nodded.

"You wouldn't happen to know anyone by the name of Estel, would you?"

"Indeed I would!" the man replied, taking a seat besides the lone dwarf, "I'm told he met a certain Mithrandir a few years ago and was advised to guard somewhere by the name of 'the Shire' with his men. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

Kíli's eyes widened. "The Shire? Why would he be asked to guard the Shire? From what I've heard there are already many who guard its borders."

The Ranger shrugged. "That I do not know, but his whereabouts since then have changed."

"I'm sure they have," he said with a grin, "He can't seem to stay in one place for too long. He never has. Not even as a small boy."

"I'm told he was rather tall for his age as a boy."

"He was still small. But like all boys, he grew up."

"I wouldn't say all boys," Aragorn smirked, glancing over at his companion.

"Dwarves are not small," Kíli exclaimed, "everyone else is just abnormally large! Except maybe Hobbits, of course."

The man just laughed in reply.

"I'm going to have to find a time to visit Hobbiton at some point," he continued with a smile, "It's been too long since my brother and I have seen our burglar."

For a moment, it seemed as though the man was going to say something, but he simply turned his head to look at the other dwarf and his friends.

They remained in a companionable silence for a few minutes, simply watching the scene which was unfolding in front of them. It seemed that Fíli had challenged one of the men to a drinking competition. Being already too far gone to realise there was no hope in winning against a dwarf, the man had accepted, and several of the others were placing bets while mead and beer were being found.

"They're doomed."

Aragorn nodded, making a noise to show he agreed.

It didn't take long for Fíli's opponent to collapse on the floor, no longer capable of keeping his eyes open, and several cheers arose from various members of the group, including a roar of triumph from the victor. Climbing down from his pedestal, the blond haired dwarf dismissed himself from the men and stumbled his way over to his brother.

"Kíli-i!" he exclaimed, holding his arms out as he pulled his sibling into a bear hug, "I am so happy right now!"

"You certainly look it," Kíli smirked.

"I just… I just beat Grimwyrd! Did you see how he fell! It was so funny!"

"Yes, that it was."

"Oh! And did you see little Théodwyn? Oh she was tiny! Even smaller than you were! Though not as bad tempered."

"… I think I resent that."

Fíli hiccupped. "It's a good… good thing she's been put to bed. Otherwise, she'll be bawling her eyes out! Just like you used to!"

"Hey!"

"And! And uh… I think she'll be so beautiful when she grows up. Just like her mother! Don't you think so Kíli?"

"I think you've had enough mead for one night, brother."

Fíli pouted. "Aw! But Kíli! It's not even dawn yet! And besides! As long as you can lie on the floor and don't need nothing to hold on to, you are not drunk"

Aragorn laughed. "I don't think it's a very good idea for you to stay up much longer. You look like you're about to collapse!"

"No fair!" the drunk dwarf replied, leaning on his brother, "You're just… trying to uh… trying to make me leave before something exciting happens!"

"Oh? And what exciting thing is supposed to happen?" the man asked, one of his eye brows rising, as though he were talking to a child.

Fíli shrugged. "I don't know. But I do think that man over there is acting funny."

Kíli frowned. "What man? Funny how?"

The blond dwarf pointed over his brother's shoulder towards where the King was sitting. "That man. The one standing close to Thengel. I mean, why would he be sneaking around in a party?"

Turning around, Kíli soon found the figure his brother was speaking of.

The man was dressed in the dark colours of a Gondorian soldier with the White Tree embroidered on his tunic, but the way he held himself almost screamed how uncomfortable he was. Those clothes were not his. It would have been easy to dismiss it as a new or borrowed tunic, but they were ill fitting, like they had been made for a man taller and wider than him, and looking closely, Kíli could see his fingers resting on the hilt of the dagger at his waist, and with each step he took towards the King, his grip tightened around it just that little more.

Eyes widening, Kíli plunged his hand into his brother's coat, ignoring the cries of protest, and pulled out one of his throwing knives, just as the stranger charged at the oblivious King.

The knife flew from the dwarf's hand, the blade spinning through the air until it made contact with the would be assassin's chest, forcing him back and the dagger's aim to go off, only scratching Thengel's arm instead of plunging into his back.

As the man fell gracelessly to the floor, the room fell silent.

Glancing towards where the knife had come from, the Horse Lord locked eyes with his saviour, relief washing over him in waves. Nodding towards the dwarf, whose arm was still extended from his throw, he realised how close he had been to death. Had it not been for the quick actions of his guest, there was no doubt that he would be sat with his forefathers in the halls eternal.

A cough from the assassin seemed to break the spell which held everyone locked in place, and the King signalled for one of his men to keep him from escaping. Leaping onto the supposed Gondorian, the guard pinned his arms to the ground under his knees as he grasped the hilt of the knife, twisting it slightly. The man gasped in pain and his eyes widened, but they did not see the faces before him. Already in the grasp of death, there was little time to interrogate him.

Thengel sneered. How dare he do such a thing? This day was sacred! Since the dawning of the nation, the name day of a child was a day of rest and reprieve, but this man had just destroyed whatever trust he had for the race of men.

The women who remained in the room gathered the few children who were still too restless for sleep and led them out of the room. This was not going to be a pretty sight.

"Who sent you?" Thengel hissed as the crowd watched.

The assassin refused to answer, though his eyes cleared slightly as he looked in the King's direction.

The guard twisted the blade again, forcing the man to groan in pain. "Speak when you are spoken to, swine!"

The pinned man spat in his captor's face, his saliva red with blood, grinning at the disgusted look the guard gave him, only to cry out in pain as the knife was pulled from his body.

"Consider that a warning!"

The captive laughed, though it sounded more like a gurgling cough, and he grinned up at the King. "You will never know... I may have failed my task… but your death will come..."

His frame shook violently, blood staining his lips as he tried to grasp the last threads of life, but it was quickly slipping away. The guards tried to slap him again but death was quicker than his hand, the assassin's body falling still and all that he had known passed beyond their reach.

Staring over at the scene from across the room, Kíli collapsed back onto his seat, suddenly feeling exhausted as the words the killer had uttered washed over him.

This was no individual's attempt at eternal glory as he had hoped, but a planned attack on the Horse Lord's life and his kingdom. It was a clear message for war, but without knowing who it was that had sent it, it was all but impossible to prepare for an invasion.

"Kíli."

Blinking, the young dwarf suddenly found himself the centre of attention, though his brother, who seemed considerably more sober than he had just moments before, was instead looking at the man who had spoken.

Thengel was grasping the cut on his arm, trying to stem the bleeding, and all the joy that had been gracing his features had been replaced by a haunted look, making him seem much older than he had first appeared. His icy blue eyes were locked with Kíli's own, the shock of the attack almost completely drained from them.

"I owe you my thanks," the King said, bowing slightly, "Had it not been for your quick actions, I doubt I would still be alive."

Bowing in return, the dwarf remained silent, unable to think of any suitable reply.

Turning back to the body, Thengel examined the assassin's face, noticing the prominent shape of his chin and nose, along with the dark hair that seemed only recently cut. This, along with the man's short stature placed him as a Dunlending, one of the Rohirrim's long standing enemies. But this did not prove anything. His words could have been made in order to scare him just as easily as it could have been a serious threat, and because of the possibility that it could have been a hired hand meant it could have been anyone.

Sighing, he shook his head. If only things were simpler.

"Take the body and leave it at Carrow's Howe. Let the crows feast on his flesh for his treachery."

If only the message behind this was clearer.


	4. Assumptions and Accusations

As the sun rose the next morning, its warm rays did nothing to warm the chills that seemed to hold those residing in Edoras in their grasp. Very few of those who had attended the celebrations the previous night had been able to sleep, the attempt on their Lord's life enough to keep their eyes from closing. However, a sleepless night did not prevent the sun from rising, and life went on regardless of what occurred within its bounds.

Kíli licked his fingers of the grease that were coating them from the sausages and bacon he's just eaten as his brother watched him with an incredulous eye, having used his hands in his impatient state, the plate of crumbs in front of him seeming too empty for his tastes. He was still a growing dwarf after all. Even an assassination attempt on his friend couldn't stem his hungry stomach.

Friend.

He didn't know when he started calling the King of the Rohirrim as such, but since he had first met the man almost ten years before, it had been hard to think of him as anything else. It was much the same story with many of the other members of the world he and his brother had visited, no matter what their race was.

Thengel was not the only ruler whom Kíli could name as a comrade. The Steward of Gondor, Ecthelion, son of Turgon, who had come into his reign the same year Thengel had come into his, along with Dáin Ironfoot, whom he had never met before the Battle of Five Armies, and Círdan of the Grey Havens. Beorn had been a great friend since the quest for Erebor, and Aragorn had become more of a brother than a friend, having watched him grow from a young ten year old boy into the leader of his people.

The elves that lived further inland than their harbour based cousins would probably take a little more time to open up, though there were a few who had opened up a little.

Thranduil was not a friend per se, more of an acquaintance, as were the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, but Legolas was a constant source of entertainment, and Haldir of Lothlórien would never allow them to go bored, though the blindfolds had yet to have been removed from his welcome. Elrond was also very much a friend, and his sons and daughter… Ah yes, Arwen. Kíli could still remember when Aragorn had seen her for the first time. It was as though he could see nothing but her, and the young dwarf couldn't really blame him; she was a beautiful lady.

Shaking his head, the archer pushed the memories away from his thoughts. Now was not the time to be reminiscing. To linger in the past while the present called for his immediate attention was not something he wished to continue at this moment.

The room which had up until so recently been used for celebration and joy had become solemn, the topic of war on everyone's lips. Sitting in his throne, Thengel had surrounded himself with his advisers, most of whom Kíli didn't recognise, though he did notice Aragorn's familiar frame sitting close to the King's side.

What had surprised him though was the fact that both he and his brother had been summoned to the meeting. They were royal emissaries, and dwarves at that, and while they had earned the respect of Rohan's Royal house, becoming involved in the kingdom's affairs was practically unheard of. It was obvious that not everyone was comfortable with their presence.

Sighing, Thengel drew everyone's attention toward him. "The Dunledings have been growing bolder of late, raiding the villages along the borders of the Westfold. But that does not mean that they caused this attack."

A murmur of disagreement arose from several of the men.

"My lord," one of them said, "it is quite clear from the assassin's features that he was a Dunlending, surely that must mean that-"

"He may also have been from the people of Enedhwait or the Northern Hill people," the King interrupted, "A face does not name a country or a Master."

Several faces turned to glance at the almost black stain on the ground behind them, where the assassin had bled out onto the wooden floor.

"We have no proof that this threat was made by one or many. It pains me to admit it, but there is no course of action that I can take other than to wait and see if what he said is true."

For a moment no one spoke, but then Aragorn shifted slightly. "If I might speak, my lord?"

"Of course, Thorongil. You do not need my permission to speak your mind here."

Nodding, the man turned his attention to those surrounding them. "I took the liberty of asking some of the members of the town if they had noticed anything unusual about this man before he arrived, and I was able to come by some information of his where-abouts some hours before his appearance in this hall. Along with a description of a companion."

Everyone who was not already was now sitting up straight, shocked at the information they had just been told.

"But, if there was a companion, then…" one of them said slowly, "then that must mean that they knew him!"

"Now let's not be too hasty, Leofred," Thengel hushed, "it could have been that this companion was nothing more than company on the road than an accomplice. But never the less, it is important that we know all we can about this strange figure."

"But, my lord," Aragorn said, rubbing his hands together in what looked like trepidation, "it was not a strange figure at all, which was why the villager had not thought much of it when he saw him."

The King frowned. "Not a stranger? Then who was it?"

The Dúnedain Chieftain paused momentarily before facing his inquisitor. "Eomarc, my lord."

A cry of outrage arose from one of the nameless men, but it was soon drowned out by the many other voices that soon joined it. Unfortunately, several ended up accusing the named man as a traitor.

"Silence!" Thengel cried, passing a stern look over his subjects. One by one, the voices ceased, until all that could be heard was the joyful songs of the blackbirds outside, "Thorongil, are you certain that this villager's word is true?"

"She seemed quite adamant," Aragorn replied, nodding his head slightly, "She had asked her husband of his identity as they were passing them on the road, and he was able to confirm her claim."

The King of the Horse Lords frowned, showing how much this news troubled him.

Eomarc had been a close friend for many years, worthy of bearing his forefathers' names and a fierce foe for any who came upon him in battle, but he was a loyal and faithful companion and friend. These accusations against him didn't make any sense!

"Franwulf," he said at long last, "find these villagers and bring them here. I want to hear with my own ears these charges the Chief of my riders has been given."

The guard bowed. "What are their names, my lord?"

"Leoford and Frea," the Ranger supplied, "You should be able to find them close to the city gates."

Bowing once again, the guard took his leave, the glare of the sun entering the dimly lit hall momentarily as he made his exit.

Mulling over the information that had just been given, Kíli wondered what exactly was going on. "Um, excuse me for my ignorance on such matters, but what exactly will you do if they believe what they say?"

One of the men scoffed, the one who had spoken first earlier. "You do not need to know. This matter is none of your business. I don't really know why you're here in the first-"

"That's enough!" Thengel cried, rising to his feet, "Maeron, if you persist in these comments I will be forced to remove you from this council. Am I clear?"

The man winced, bowing his head in submission. "Of course, my lord. My apologies."

Inclining his head, the King accepted the request for forgiveness with scepticism, but he decided it would be best to let this matter slide. "I did not expect you to know of such matters Kíli, as it is not exactly something you would need to know, considering your role here. I doubt even you know, Fíli, what it is exactly that will come to pass."

Being the more versed in the laws of men, the blond dwarf was more capable when it came to their politics, but a situation such as this had not presented itself before this time, and so he was as out of his depth as his brother, though he could guess the basics.

"Would you not ride out to meet him?" Fíli asked, referring to what would befall had someone offended another, but Thengel shook his head.

"I'm afraid it goes a little further than that. Due to the seriousness of the situation, I will be forced to ride out with a host of my men and demand answers."

The older dwarf frowned. "But you don't even know if this rumour is true! Eomarc could take it as a threat and ride out to meet you. It could mean war!"

"I have little choice."

The pair looked at each other, a silent conversation occurring between their locked eyes, before turning back to the situation.

"Why don't you send us instead?" Kíli asked innocently, knowing that if he asked and it was rejected, it could be put down to his ignorance.

Maeron scoffed, but his words remained silent as Thengel sent him a warning glare.

"What are you saying?" he replied, bemused by the proposition.

Pushing himself out of his seat, the younger dwarf moved around the table and into the centre of the group. "Well, if you were to send my brother and myself, since we've made negotiations with him before, it will not seem unusual or strange for us to visit. We could then ask if what the villagers had seen was true. If we find that it was, we can find the answers you want, and all without risking open war."

Murmurs once again arose from the men that now surrounded him, but there were no hash tones or words held within them. Before he could say anything more though, the doors to the hall opened and Franwulf stepped inside, leading a group of about five men and women.

Parting, the council let the small group approach the King, all of whom bowed or lifted their skirts in a curtsy.

"My Lord," the guard said, "The man and woman you requested, and a few others who claim to have seen what had transpired."

Thengel nodded and beckoned them forwards. "Speak."

One of the men took a step closer and bowed again. "My wife and I were travelling with our friends from the market in one of the neighbouring villages when we saw it, my lord," he said, indicating a the others behind him, "There were two riders coming from the West, one of them wore an Eorlingas helm, while the other wore none but had the white tree of Gondor on his tunic. I noticed it didn't fit him very well, but I thought it might have just been that he'd borrowed it or something.

"They must not have noticed us, as they were stood in the middle of the road, talking. I don't know what was said, but it was clear that the Eorling was uncomfortable in his presence. Before we got too close, he removed his helm and… pardon me for making such assumptions, as I have only seen the Chief a few times, but Greymir insisted that it was him."

Thengel looked over at the others. "You all saw the same?"

They all replied the affirmative.

Rubbing the side of his head, the King closed his eyes for a moment. "I see," turning to the two dwarves who were now stood side by side and nodded, "You have three days. If you do not have answers by then, I will have to demand for them myself."


	5. Answers and Oaths

Gathering up their things took less time than usual, though that was to be expected considering they had been there for barely a day. Though their ponies were well rested, due to the rough night they had, neither Fíli nor Kíli felt the effects of the few hours of respite they had the fortune of experiencing that previous afternoon. Unfortunately, they did not have luxury of time, and so they were forced to leave without the sleep they desperately needed.

This being the case, Kíli soon found himself nodding off in his saddle as they made their way towards their destination.

This, of course, was very amusing to his riding companion.

"You know, if you're not careful, you're going to fall out of your saddle."

Moaning at the interruption to his nap, the younger dwarf pried his eyes open to glare at his brother. "You know that's not true. I've been able to sleep in the saddle for years!"

Fíli huffed. "If you're sure."

Too tired to argue, Kíli let his eyes drift shut, and he was soon in a light doze.

Only to be woken by a sudden feeling of weightlessness.

Pulling on the reigns and the horn of his saddle, he barely kept himself from falling onto the ground, all while Fíli clutched his belly as he laughed. "Oh poor Mary! Now you've gone and hurt her poor mouth!"

Regaining his balance, Kíli shot his brother a glare. "It would not have happened if had not pushed me!"

"Oh come on, you were just asking for it," came the retort, "And besides, it woke you up, didn't it?"

He opened his mouth to disagree, but he found he couldn't, and ended up laughing at the situation instead. It was a wonderful release of the tension that had been buzzing around them. Not only was it a welcomed break, it was also a much needed atmosphere which would be very useful when they finally reached Eomarc's home.

Over the years, the brothers had found that negotiations seemed to go a lot better if they brought a warm and carefree atmosphere to their meetings. It helped to thaw any suspicions of foul play and bring relationships to a pleasant and hopeful start, while keeping the important discussions of trade and relations between Erebor and said kingdom as short and effective as possible, leaving more time for creating friendships of their own.

As much as Kíli was grateful for what Fíli had just done though, it had almost cost him his pride.

"You know, I'm going to have to pay you back for that."

Fíli pursed his lips for a moment and squinted, as though he was considering it, but then he grinned. "Ah, but then that wouldn't be fair. It was pay back for what you did to me yesterday after all."

"What in Durin's name are you… Oh," the dark haired dwarf said, suddenly remembering the prank he'd played with the water bucket, "I'd completely forgotten about that."

His brother grinned. "Well it serves you right. I would never have done such a thing to you."

Kíli snorted. "I would have been as soaked as you were and you know it."

Fíli did nothing to hide the mischievous glint in his eyes as they looked at each other.

Shaking his head, the younger of the two returned his gaze to the road ahead of him, only to be surprised by the sight of the thatched roofs of a small village. "We're already here?"

"Of course! We've been riding for the best part of the day."

Looking around, Kíli realised that the sun was not in the East but the West. Had he slept through the entire ride?

"You're welcome."

Giving his brother a grateful glance, he looked over the buildings ahead of them. Everything seemed to be going on as usual; women hung out washing and ground flour from the grain gathered in the year's harvest, and the men tended to their flocks in the field or worked their craft in their homes. But something was missing.

"Where are all the children?" Kíli asked in a whisper, careful not to scare the villagers who seemed to be ignoring them.

Usually, they would have received a similar welcome as they had in Edoras, the youngsters swarming their steeds as they rode them along the path towards the Chief's home, the air filled with laugher and pleas for new tales as their parents kept watch, but instead the road remained clear and silent, and the adults seemed to be averting their eyes from them.

Something was definitely wrong.

Soon enough, they reached a building similar in structure, though not in size, to Meduseld. Although it was not as large as the King's grand halls, it was still a very impressive and elegant home, painted in the traditional greens, reds and gold of the Rohirrim. Dismounting, the pair took their ponies into the stables and removed the saddles and reigns before brushing them down. Once they had finished caring for their mounts, they left their packs in one of the empty stalls and made their way towards the front doors of the Chief's home.

Unlike the last time they had visited, there were no guards to greet them, or open the doors. In fact, the village seemed rather devoid of any form of warrior or rider; not even so much as a forgotten helm. Sharing a quick worried look, they pushed the doors open.

It was dark inside. No candles were lit, and the windows were covered with rags. Shadows were everywhere, and it was impossible to see anything more than silhouettes in the dim light. As they made their way into the room's dark depths, Kíli lighting a torch with his tinderbox, they began to wonder if this was such a good idea.

"Eomarc?" Fíli cried, squinting into the dark, "It's Fíli and Kíli. We wanted to come and see if you were alright."

For a moment, it didn't seem like there would be an answer and that they were just walking into an empty room, but then the sound of someone standing came from one of the darker areas.

"Really?" came a deep, rasping voice, almost choked, as if the owner had trouble speaking, "I would have thought you would have come for… a different reason."

"No…" the blond dwarf said, taking a step further into the darkness, "We didn't see you at the celebrations and wondered why you hadn't attended. I mean, you are King Thengel's Chief of Riders after all. Was there something wrong here? I mean, we didn't see any children. Is there some sort of sickness?"

The tension in the air was almost tangible as the seconds wore on. It made shivers run up their spines.

"No," Eomarc replied at long last, "It is not a sickness."

Kíli frowned. "Then what is it?"

The sound of heavy footfalls began to approach them, and it took everything they had not to back away. It was not the footsteps which made them edgy though, it was the sound of something heavy and limp being dragged across the ground.

As the form of a blond haired man came into the dim light of the flames and the setting sun, the two froze as they recognised the lifeless form of a body sliding along the wooden floor boards behind him.

"Eo… Eomarc?" Fíli said, his voice shaking slightly at the sight, his mind racing. His hand was going automatically towards one of his daggers.

"I… I failed the task I was given, and so…"

"Task?" Kíli asked, "What task? Eomarc, who is that?"

The man didn't seem to hear him, he was in a world of his own. "He said I was going to meet her, that I was going to see my Blídhe again. But I couldn't. I have to look after our son. I can't leave him behind like that."

Fíli paled. "Blídhe… No. No, she can't be…"

"They came in the night, sneaking through the fields like shadows. We didn't even know they were there until it was too late. So many riders, dead. And Blídhe… They took the children, and they said that we had to do as they said, or they'd kill them. Even the new borns."

"Mahal be merciful," Kíli gasped, covering his mouth with his hand.

Eomarc laughed, but it was dry and humourless, as though all the happiness was gone from the world. "Mercy? What use is mercy? They have taken my wife to somewhere I cannot reach, and my son, and all the children, are probably waiting with her. Waiting for me to join them." He glanced down at the body by his side. "Why did I kill him? He was only trying to bring me to them. But perhaps I will still be able to."

Before he could react, Kíli was pushed to the ground and the torch snatched from his fingers.

"Stop! Eomarc!" Fíli exclaimed, "Think about what you are doing!"

"Oh, but I am!" the man replied, moving towards a pile of rags which sat next to a pillar, "I will see my wife and child again. It is my wish." Slowly, he began to lower the torch to the cloth, a sad smile on his face. "I will see them again."

"No!" the oldest dwarf cried before charging at the man, bringing him crashing down as he made contact with his chest, sending the torch flying.

"You will not keep me from them!" Eomarc yelled as he struggled under Fíli's weight. "I have to-"

Suddenly, the clap of skin hitting skin filled the room, and the Chief stared up at his captor, eyes wide in shock as his cheek began to take on a much darker hue.

"You idiot!" Fíli shouted, taking a hold of the man's tunic, "Do you have any idea how selfish it would be for you just to surrender? To just give up like that? Listen to yourself! Why would your son be dead? Why would any of the children be dead? If 'they' took so much effort to get them, why would they kill them?"

"What else could they have-"

"Shut up! You have no right to speak! You are a coward, and cowards have no right to say anything! You have a life and a duty to fulfil. You have friends and a son to live for. Blídhe's departure from this life is hard, and you will never be able to recover, I know, but she would not want you to follow her so blindly!"

The man's eyes moved away from Fíli's face, shame written clearly in his features. Sighing, the dwarf released his anger and lowered the man back to the floor, relaxing his grasp and freeing him.

"There is nothing you can do to change the past. It might be filled with horrors and sorrows, but it is over. And this is why the future is that much more important."

Eomarc was pale, and his skin had taken on an almost white shade as his now clear eyes blinked up at the ceiling. A shiver ran through his body as he bit his lip, pain and self-loathing, such that Fíli had never seen before, written in his features. Suddenly, it was as though a wall had come crashing down and the semblance of dignity he'd been fighting to hold onto was lost. At long last, the tears that had been building up inside him came flooding down his cheeks as buried his face in his strong hands, pulling himself up into a seated position, gasps and groans of grief escaping his throat.

Kneeling down beside the King's Chief of Riders, Fíli drew the man into an embrace, feeling the powerful shoulders shake with his bitter sobs. He understood all too well what the man was going through. He needed the firm support of another, a rock to cling to in this sea of anguish, and he would be that for him.

As Kíli stood watching from the side, holding the now dark torch in his hand, he recognised the way his brother comforted this broken man, remembering how he had been in a similar situation after their Uncle had died. Fíli had always been that stronghold for him to retreat to, and though he wondered how he could bear it so well, he was happy that the eldest of the two was so resilient.

After some time, the sobs finally abated and Eomarc stilled, grief having had its first toll and exhaustion bringing calm. He pulled away from Fili's embrace a little, his hand swiftly swiping away the last traces of tears from his eyes, likely ashamed he had been so weak. The dwarf clasped his shoulder with his hand. It took no words, Fili's understanding was palpable in the very way he bore himself.

"Thank you," Eomarc said, his voice hoarse, as was to be expected.

"We all are brethren in grief," Fili said gently, "Death and pain make no difference upon any of us, my friend."

The warrior nodded slowly, rising to his feet, wobbling slightly on unsteady legs, though he quickly caught his balance.

"They took the children," Eomarc said after a while, finding the strength to speak of the horrors that lay behind him, "to ensure our cooperation. They made a demonstration of Blídhe when I refused..." He closed his eyes, not allowing himself to collapse again. Blídhe would understand. She had always been strong. "Now that I failed to do their bidding, I fear for the children."

Eomarc drew his dagger from its sheath and placed it across his palm. Pale though he may have been, his hands were not shaking any more, and with the calm and icy strength that had returned to him, he pulled the blade through the skin of his hand unflinchingly, blood marring the glistening steel.

"I shall avenge my people. I will not rest nor stop until they are avenged upon those who so cruelly slew them," he vowed, staring at the red liquid that began to drip through his fingers.

Fíli had watched silently, seeing strength, revenge and grim purpose on the proud warrior of Rohan.

Reaching out, he took the bloody blade from Eomarc's limp fingers and repeated the gesture, his own blood mingling on the blade. "And I will be with you."

Looking up at him, shocked, the rider smiled as he watched Kíli hold the blade to his own hand.

"And I," the younger dwarf said, the cut on his hand weeping red tears.

Eomarc nodded his gratitude, thankful that he would not be alone in his fight. The blood bond had been made, the vow clear, and they were tied together until the task was done.

And so, twenty years after the Battle of the Five armies, the brothers were again at war.


	6. From the ashes of the Flame

Uncontrollable flames roared at the silence of the night surrounding it, its fingers reaching up towards the clouds in the sky, but no matter how much they grew they could never touch the heavens they seemed so desperate to destroy. Bursting through the doors, two dwarves stumbles spluttering and coughing out into the courtyard as smoke billowed out from behind them.

Turning back to the burning building, the taller of the two made to charge back in, but the smaller held him back.

"Kíli, no!" Fíli cried, pulling the other back.

"But we have to help Eomarc!" he exclaimed, trying to pull away from his brother, "He's still in there!"

"It was his choice! We have to respect it!"

"To the Shadows with that!" With one last tug, Kíli pulled his arm from Fíli's grip and rushed forwards, only to have the older dwarf grab his coat and pull him to the floor, keeping him down with his body weight. "Stop! Get off me!"

"Think about what you're trying to do! He set the place alight by choice! Do you think that if we rescued him that he won't try again?"

The younger dwarf's struggling weakened, but it didn't completely stop. "But… he was doing so well…"

Fíli sighed. "I know, but there's nothing we can do for him now."

Ceasing his squirming, Kíli finally looked up at the once proud home, eyes filled with sorrow.

The flames were now too hot for anyone to approach without becoming burned, and even at the distance they were from it, they could feel the heat on their skin. There was no chance that anyone left inside could survive that.

Knowing his brother wasn't going to be foolish enough to charge towards the blaze again, Fíli helped his sibling to his feet and they stood back, watching as the burning inferno stayed its course.

Luckily, the other homes were some distance from the flames, and there was little risk that the blaze would spread, but the villagers were busy running back and forth between the river and the buildings with buckets and tubs filled with water and throwing it over the thatched roofs, all too aware that even a spark on dry wood could cause destruction. Unfortunately, they had not realised soon enough that the hall was alight, and there was no chance in saving it.

Shaking themselves out of their stupor, the brothers picked up containers of their own, joining in with the task to save their homes and livelihoods, and soon everyone's homes were safe, but still the fire continued to burn. There was nothing that anyone could do but to wait for it to burn out.

A few hours later, the sun now completely hidden from the world and the clouds covering the light of the moon, the dwarves along with several of the men went picking through the remains of the once proud house, torches gaining them a little light. It did not take them long to find the burnt out carcass of a man, lying under what had once been the main beam for the roof, his torso crushed under its weight.

After helping to lift the beam from its place, Fíli sighed and mumbled a prayer under his breath making his way over to the stables with his brother close behind him.

"If we leave now, we'll be able to make it to Edoras by morning," he said, moving towards his pony's stall as he wiped his hands on his coat, leaving black stains on the already dirty fabric.

"But what of…" Kíli paused, unable to say the words for a moment. "What of the body?"

"We'll leave the body to the villagers. It's not our place."

Looking at the ground, the youngest of the pair nodded his agreement and made his way towards Mary's stall.

It took them a while to saddle their ponies and gather their belongings, their fingers still a little swollen from the water they had carried and the rough material of the wooden handles, and the fresh cuts on their palms hindered their progress greatly, but once they had finished, they wasted no time to jump onto their mounts' backs. They had to tell the King of what had come to pass.

Nodding silent farewells to all they passed, the two dwarfs rode out of the village, stopping briefly at its borders to look back at the rising smoke plume before continuing on.

It was the same journey they had taken before, but it was also different. It wasn't because of the fact that they were travelling the opposite direction they had come, or that it was night time, but because they felt as though it was a road to a darker future.

Well, that and the fact that there was a certain figure on horseback awaiting them a few hours' ride along the road.

As they approached, their solemn expressions turned into small smiles as they took one last look around them. Once they were satisfied that no one else was around, they spurred their ponies on until they were by the lone rider's side.

Glancing at the two of them, the man nodded. "You weren't followed?"

Fíli shook his head. "It seems the spies were more interested in the fire than anything else. We were able to leave without attracting much attention. There was a trail for the first hour or so, but he soon lost interest."

"That's good," he replied, "So they didn't suspect anything."

"Nothing," Kíli replied, his smile brightening.

The man sighed in relief, looking up at the sky and the bright patch of cloud where the moon was. "I was afraid that they would have noticed."

"Did you really have such little faith in our plan, Eomarc?" Fíli asked, humour sneaking into his voice, making the corners of the Chief's lips curl up slightly.

"I could never doubt your plans. Especially after the pact you both made." He looked down at his own bandaged hand, recalling how they had sworn to aid him in his revenge.

Glancing at each other, the two brothers made a silent agreement for the youngest to continue on, leaving the other to talk to the man, as he knew him better.

As Kíli rode on ahead, he took a deep breath and watched the cloud of smoke-like air escape his mouth. Although the task they had allotted themselves had not been difficult, it had still been nerve racking.

In order to get Eomarc to Edoras to see the King, they had needed to fake his death. Luckily, the body of the dead 'messenger' had been similar in stature to the Chief, and so, with a bit of burning, it would have been impossible to distinguish the two. Setting the hall on fire wasn't the hard part though.

In order for Eomarc to escape unnoticed, both Fíli and Kíli had to create a distraction in order to draw attention away from the windows at the back of the building while giving the fire enough time to thoroughly gnaw its way into the bones of the hall.

Of course, the Chief had been a little reluctant at first to destroy the last remaining belongings of his wife, even though he had been more than willing to do so not moments before, but after a little convincing, he was able to part the place he had called home for almost his entire life.

As the fire was busy destroying the house and the brothers were fighting about trying to save the man who was supposedly inside, Eomar had been able to saddle one of the horses and escape, travelling down the road to Edoras before stopping to wait in order to meet them and arrive at the city together.

Now on the road again, Kíli made sure to keep a look out for any unusual characters, or worse, as they rode on, ignoring the conversation that he was bound to misunderstand completely.

As the darkness of the night soon began to brighten into the pale blue of the morning, and the fortified city of Edoras soon came into view.

Though Eomarc had not been himself (or so Fíli had told him) since they had met him the previous evening, it became clear as the distance between them and the halls of King Thengel decreased that he was anything but calm. His frame had stiffened in his saddle and his breathing had deepened; the calm and companionable silence that had fallen over them had become tense and fearful.

Dismounting before they reached the gates the three of them led their mounts up the path towards the stables, the children being held back their parents when they saw the man whom had accompanied their youngsters' favourite travellers. Rumours had always spread quickly in small communities, and Eomarc's alleged betrayal was no different.

Word had been sent ahead to the halls of Meduseld of their arrival, and the Lord of the Mark stood atop the stone staircase that led to his home, his sword's hilt held steady as it hung by his side, eyes ever watchful of their presence. With a nod, the King sent several of his guards to prevent the three of them from travelling any further.

Inclining his head, Thengel looked every bit the Lord of his lands, holding himself tall and his expression unforgiving. "Tell me, my friends, why is it that you have brought this man into my presence? I had thought you were going to speak to him, not take him from his lands."

Turning to his brother, Kíli allowed the older to do the talking, knowing he would only harm the situation than do it any good. He didn't fail to notice the dejected look that passed over the man's features though before it was replaced by a stern façade, though it did little to hide the exhaustion and sorrow that seemed to seep from his very being; through the dark shadows under his eyes and the way he seemed to merely hang there instead of standing.

"It proved a necessary course of action, my lord," the blond dwarf replied, "I'm afraid I will be unable to say any more until we are certain that there are no… unfriendly ears listening."

Raising one of his eyebrows in an unspoken question, Thengel allowed them to continue on with their trek and motioned for them to join him when they were able.

And so, after leaving their ponies with the stable hands, the two dwarven ambassadors soon found themselves stood with an exhausted and thoroughly weary and emotionally destroyed man in the middle of the scrutinising gazes of several men, trying to ignore their own exhaustion and rumbling stomachs.

Knowing they would probably be able to get both the rest and food they all three so desperately needed, they patiently waited for the questioning to begin.

Pressing his fingertips together in a sort of steeple-like shape in front of his lips, Thengel examined his guests. "Tell me. What is the reason you have been brought to my halls, Eomarc?"


	7. The Beginnings of Plans

The questions had been harsh and thorough, no one wanting to miss any details. It took some time for some of the answers to come about, which was not unexpected due to the state of the three who were being interrogated, and the tale had been nothing but sorrowful and dark.

Not only had Eomarc's children been taken, but his men had been murdered in their sleep and spies left in their wake to prevent any action from being made to so anything but do as they were told. His escape was not only well planned, but had a large amount of luck. It seemed the Valar had granted them their graces that night, but there was one thing that was impossible to ignore or deny…

"So it really was the Dunlendings…" Thengel mused, leaning back in his throne. Ever since the Rohirrim had first been gifted their land, a great feud had been held between them and the descendants of the Haladin, though the Dunlendings' hatred towards them was not completely unfounded.

It was said that in the first years of their arrival, the Eorlingas had herded their peoples from the hills and the lands they had lived on for generations out of Rohan and beyond the river Isen, and since then they took every opportunity to strike back against the usurpers of their once home.

However, this attack had been planned and carefully created, not something that they would usually do, but due to the fact that the children of his people had been taken hostage gave him no other option than war. The question was though, how were they going to do it without risking the youngsters' lives?

"It would seem that we have been backed into a corner," he said.

Eomarc nodded. "So it would seem, my lord."

Frowning, Thengel rubbed his chin, his fingers scratched by the coarse hairs upon it. He couldn't help but feel that he didn't have all the information. "Is there anything else that you know that would help us? Anything at all?"

"I have already told you everything that I know," came the reply, but the man's eyes moved to the floor, "At least… wait."

"What is it?" Fíli asked, hope beginning to dawn in his features.

"I remember, when they first attacked, one of them said something… I thought he was talking about what was happening there but…" Eomarc hesitated, as though it took all his energy to even think about the words he was trying to say, "He said 'Your children will watch you die, and they will hate you for it'."

Thengel opened his mouth to question the phrase, but then it suddenly occurred to him; the reason why everything that had happened during the past few days suddenly becoming clear. "They wanted me to attack you."

"My lord?"

"They must have known that I would ride out to your home in force, or my men would have had their attempt on my life been successful, as is the way of our people," the King continued on, "They must have expected us to war amongst ourselves as they made your children watch."

Realisation dawned on the two dwarves who were sat beside the new widower.

"It would have been just as I had predicted," Fíli exclaimed, "The assassination attempt was meant to bring you to this war and cause a hatred for your people in your own children-"

"-who would have been forced to watch as the battle occurred!" Kíli finished, "It seems that the only way we will be able to get the children back with minimal risk to them would be-"

"Would be to stage the battle while a select few rescued them from their captors," Aragorn said, a smile playing on his lips, "My lord, it could work!"

Thengel seemed to muse over it for a moment before nodding, the light of hope in his eyes. "We will have to be prepared and discretion must be held as a priority."

Everyone agreed, nodding or replying with 'ayes' or murmurs.

"However, as much as I would like for this to be over as soon as possible, I know that our three guests are in some desperate need of rest and food," the King said, looking at the weary and dark faces of the man and dwarves in front of him, the soot that still covered two of them making them seem so much older, and the dark shadows under their eyes created an image of illness, "Eomarc, Fíli, Kíli, I thank you for your assistance and the information you have been able to bring me. We will continue to plan for this attack while you bathe and rest. Salves and cloth will be sent for your wounds"

Kíli was about to thank him for his generosity, but the Chief surprised him by standing, his hands curled into fists.

"I do not mean any disrespect, my lord," he said, his anger clear in his voice, "but I do not think this is a time for rest. I will not allow you to shut me out of the plans to save my child."

Although many of those attending the meeting had tensed considerably, several hands now resting on the hilts of their swords, Thengel simply smiled, joining his friend on his feet. "I would never do that, my friend. You deserve to be involved in this more than any other in this room. But you are no use to me or your son in the state you are in now." Walking over, he put his hands on Eomarc's shoulders. "Please. I will personally inform you of what we decide when you are yourself again, but until then you must rest."

For a moment, it looked as though the exhausted man would retort, but then his features relaxed and he nodded. "I will do my best."

"Good." Turning to the guard that stood by one of the pillars, he ordered for another room to be prepared for their extra guest and for water to be drawn and heated for baths. "I do hope that the room you had before will serve," he said, looking down at the two dwarves.

Fíli smiled. "I think we could be happy with your stable in the state we're in."

Kíli gave him a disbelieving look. "Speak for yourself."

His brother simply sent him a glare before looking apologetically towards their host, worried that the younger dwarf may have caused offence, but luckily Thengel had found it slightly amusing.

"Ah, my friend, you never cease to amuse." The king's smile seemed to bring a release to some of the tension which had clouded the air around them. "I hope you will return ready to face the task we face."

Bowing, the three of them left the grand hall, walking down the corridor that led to the sleeping quarters as the conversations began anew behind them.

Although he wished to be a part of their talks, Eomarc could not deny the weariness he felt deep in his bones, and so he excused himself from the two dwarves as soon as he could, shutting himself away from the world as he let the grief he had been holding back as he had been forced to recount his tale wash over him.

Unaware of their friend's current state, though not without suspicions, Fíli and Kíli made their way back to the room they had been given before and were pleasantly surprised by the familiar sight of their packs by their beds. Wash basins had been provided, along with a small pot of salve and clean cloths which had been left on the side, and the tubs that were for their use to bathe in were being filled by one of Thengel's maids.

Neither of the tubs looked anywhere near full, but it had only been a short while since the King of the Rohirrim had ordered for them to be made ready, and so the pair found they had some time to waste while they waited. Using the basins left for them on the table, the pair washed the grime from their hands and set about tending to their palms. Fortunately, the temporary bandages they had originally wrapped around the cuts had prevented the worst of the grime from entering the wounds, but they still had to split open the already healing scab that had begun to form in order to clean it completely and apply the salve.

Fíli hissed slightly as he dug what looked to be a nasty looking splinter from his palm before dropping it into the water. "Damn. I hate splinters."

"You're just not used to them," came his brother's retort.

He snorted. "Well, of course you would be after climbing all those trees with the elves."

"Well how else was I supposed to learn how to reach high ground to scout out the area so efficiently?" Kíli defended himself, "You're able to see farther. And it's saved our hides more than once, so quit complaining!"

Shaking his head, the blond dwarf continued to pull splinters from his fingers, his extremities no longer shaking too much from the cold to do so.

Soon enough, the water in the basins were black with soot and ash, and the bath water was ready, the steam making the air soggy but warm. As rare as it was for dwarves to take more than one bath every few months, they found it was both necessary and thoroughly welcomed, the muck and dirt of the past day sticking to their skin and making it uncomfortable to move.

After removing their stained and itchy garments, the pair clambered into the tubs, relaxing into the warm water.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this but," Kíli murmured, "It never felt so nice to have a bath."

Fíli groaned in agreement, leaning his neck against the side and closing his eyes as he let the warmth seep into his muscles, alleviating the aches and cramps that had built up from almost nonstop riding for almost half a day. He didn't even want to think about how their ponies would be feeling at that moment. Maybe they could treat them with some apples or something after this whole ugly business was over.

Eventually, when they noticed the water was starting to go cold, they used the cloths and soap provided to scrub their skin clean, making the water murky and unusable, but once they had finished, they changed into their spare clothes and collapsed onto their beds, not unlike they had done when they had first arrived in Edoras, and sleep was equally as welcoming.

However, for a certain man, it was still a few hours before his mind would allow his body's needs to take priority, and his thoughts and dreams were plagued with the images of his dying wife.


	8. The Past Becomes the Present

It had been a day since the three travellers had arrived, the sun had made a full circuit of the sky, and it was now hanging low behind dark clouds, waiting for the next moments to drag it closer to the horizon. Sleep had not come easily to the Chief of the Riders, but he had been able to rest a few hours, and he was much better for it, though it was clear that his mind was still troubled.

The plan had been concocted, their strength gathered, and now all that was left was to send messengers to the appropriate people, the riders having left earlier that day on their fastest horses, their mouths sealed with oaths of secrecy as they rode through the downpour that had blessed the skies, making visibility poor.

Watching the signs of the messengers disappear from the surface of the ground, the dust and dirt mixing together with the rain to create mud, Kíli wondered how things were going to play out in the end.

Sure, they had a plan. But plans could go astray. Everything rested on the shoulders of a select few, and he just happened to be one of them.

Sighing, the young dwarf pushed such thoughts from his mind and turned back into his room.

Fíli lay snoring in a heap on top of his bed, his boots and coat lay strewn across the floor, sitting where they had landed after being thrown across the room. The blond dwarf had decided that it would be a good idea to get a few more hours of rest in before they had to leave, and had bid his brother do the same.

He had tried. He really had. He spent at least an hour waiting for sleep to come to him, but Kíli found his mind was racing with too many thoughts to settle down.

They were going to war. Actual full out war. Not a small skirmish with bandits on the road, or hunts for criminals and dangerous animals, but an actual war.

It had been twenty years since his last battle. In fact, it was the only battle he'd ever been in, but it had driven fear into his heart ever since. Two full decades since his arrows had been used for more than just practice, self-preservation and survival, and he had hoped that his blade would never have seen use again, but that seemed impossible now, especially with the oath he had sworn.

The Battle of the Five Armies. That's what people called it. Poems had been written, stories had been told and songs sung of the siege of the Lonely Mountain. They spoke of the honour found there, the courage of those who had fought and the respect for those who had died. They made it out to be this glorious and amazing thing.

They didn't mention the blood curdling fear that sets in as the first flight of arrows are loosed, the screams of agony the dying cried as you walked over them, the chilling calm and numbness that seemed to take over after the first kill. No tale could ever be told that could make you hear the moans of the mourning. No poem could ever be spoken to describe of the stench of decaying bodies. No song could ever be sung that could make you feel the heart wrenching sorrow of losing someone who had been the world to you.

Kíli envied the ease with which his brother could sleep, his ability to keep the past in the past and put aside all worries and fears to ease his mind before losing himself to blissful unconsciousness never ceasing to amaze. He had no idea how Fíli did it, but he wouldn't ruin the older dwarf's slumber because he was unable to join him.

With a small shake of his head, the younger of the two pulled his boots on and made his way out the door and into the grand hall.

The fire had been relit to the centre of the room since he had returned, though it may have been that he hadn't noticed it before, but it held no interest for him. Nor did the few men sat at one of the tables, eating their evening meal and drinking their ales. Instead he just made his way to the slightly ajar door at the far end of the hall.

A chilling draft entered the building through the gap between the two doors, but no one had made to close it, though Kíli soon discovered that this was through no neglect or negligence; Thengel, Lord of the Mark, was stood watching the skies rain down on his lands, keeping himself under the protection of the extended roof, but only just. His eyes were searching through the almost impossible visibility for the return of the messengers that were more than likely still one their way to their destinations.

The meeting that had occurred during that morning had set things in motion that, once started, could not be stopped.

The conclusion was simple; if the Dunlendings wanted a war, then they would get one.

"You know," the dwarf said after a few moments, "no matter how hard you will them to return sooner, I don't think there is a single rider who could return from such a task in a few short hours."

Turning to face him, Thengel allowed a small smile to grace his features, but his eyes remained full of sorrow. "I had hoped that it would not come down to this."

Kíli nodded. "I don't think anyone in their right mind would wish war upon their people. It is a foul and evil thing."

"Aye."

For a moment, they both stood there in silence, watching the rain as it accumulated in the cracks in the stone and in puddles on the roads. Though the skies had abated a little from earlier, the end still seemed to remain out of reach.

"Where's your brother?" the King suddenly asked, pulling them both from their thoughts.

"Pardon?"

"Your brother," he repeated, "It is just… I rarely see the two of you apart, and I wondered where he was."

"Ah," Kíli replied, knowing that Thengel was probably trying to spark up a conversation, "He is resting at the moment, 'preserving his strength', or so he says." He couldn't help but laugh a little at his brother's words. They had never made any real sense to him, as he found he only became more tired with the more rest he took, but Fíli would always jump up ready as ever afterwards, so who was he to judge?

"So, why is it that you are not with him?"

Kíli paused, considering how to answer the question. "I… have a lot on my mind."

Thengel frowned. "I had not though you to be one to worry, my friend. You are always so…"

"Naïve?"

"I would say light-hearted."

The dwarf's lips curled into a light smile as his gaze moved to his feet. "My brother would agree with you… on most occasions. I'm afraid that there are some times where the past likes to creep up on me."

"The past?" the King asked, and Kíli could feel the man's gaze on him, though he refused to meet it.

Taking a deep breath, he looked out across the drenched land, his eyes blind to their beauty as memories flitted through his thoughts. "Sleep does not come easily after you have seen the carnage of battle, Lord Thengel. It is riddled with the screams of those you could not help, and the hollow eyes of the dead you left behind."

Blinking, he glanced at the man at his side, watching as shock and sympathy crossed his features.

"The battles they sing of in ballads are nothing but fairy tales," Kíli continued, returning his gaze to the rolling hills around the city walls, "Did you ever once hear of the aftermath in these songs? Maybe they don't sing of it because there is nothing there that could be proven fit for courageous tales of heroes. Though it's probably more likely that it was inappropriate to sing about death and decay in front of the young and impressionable youth."

For a moment, Thengel simply stared at his companion, dumbfounded at the sudden change in character that he was showing, but he soon regained his composure, coughing a little to clear his throat. "I had no idea you had experience in the field."

"Only the once," Kíli replied, "Fíli and I, we followed our Uncle to fulfil the quest to find a home for our people, but when we finally reached it, and the great beast that had been defiling our halls had been slain, a great battle was waged upon the doorstep of our halls, and the land became rank with blood and the rotting corpses of both friend and foe… our Uncle amongst them." He took another breath, stilling the nerves in his stomach. "I had never seen such carnage before, nor have I since.

"I was told afterwards that less than half of our allied forces survived that day, all with families to grieve them, some leaving their children orphaned, while others had only friends to remember their names. Those unnamed fallen; those are the true heroes of war."

Thengel could feel a shiver run up his spine as he listened to the dwarf, completely dumbstruck by the solemn and respectful tone he held for the fallen; it was not something he would have ever expected from him. Kíli had always been the mischief maker, his tricks and jokes causing playful anarchy and chaos wherever he went, a smile ever on his face. He was always the young and joyful dwarf who seemed to have known no misery or pain in his life.

The pained look on his face bore almost no resemblance to that care free character everyone had come to know and love.

But one thing puzzled the horse lord; there was only one battle that he could think of, that he knew of at least, which Kíli would have been old enough to remember, but surely he couldn't have fought there! He would have still been but a child by dwarven standards! However, the more he thought about it, the more he realised it couldn't have been anything else.

"You were in the Battle of the Five Armies, weren't you," he stated, knowing his declaration to be true.

Kíli remained silent for a moment before he nodded. "Aye, that I was."

"But you are not a dwarf of the Iron Hills. Your frame is too thin."

"That is also true."

Thengel had to think about the tales he had heard about that battle to try and discern how this dwarf could have been in that situation. He recalled the orcs and the dwarves, the elves of the woodland realm, the dwarves of the Iron Hills of the East and the Great Eagles of the High Peaks. But there had been a rather ambiguous group, known only as the Company of the great hero, Thorin Oakenshield. It was said that the Company had consisted of a dozen dwarves from the Western regions, the only ones whom had accepted the task they had been offered. Surely Kíli couldn't have been…

Eyes widening, Thengel almost spluttered as the final piece of information slotted itself into place in his mind.

"Thorin Oakenshield… It is said that he took his sister-sons with him when he travelled from the Blue Mountains…"

Kíli remained silent, doing nothing to deny the obvious assumption.

The king couldn't help but laugh. "All these years I thought I knew the two of you, but it would seem there was a lot more to you than you let on."

"Isn't that the case with everyone?" the dwarf retorted, a smile evident in his voice.

"True… Though I doubt many would be hiding a royal blood line in their past."

Kíli sniggered, his features returning to the familiar childish grin. "I think you'd be surprised."


	9. Hammers and Thunder

The anvil in the smithy had been used almost non-stop since the news of the impending battle had been spread amongst the guards and riders, and not for the regular horse shoes and broken ploughs; swords, spear tips and arrow head had to be forged, sharpened and mended before the messengers returned with news. However, the ringing of metal on metal had long since been silenced, and the coals of the forge were all but cold.

Horses had been saddled, armour strapped to their appropriate positions and swords buckled to waists as the Riders prepared to leave their homes and follow their Lord to battle. The women and children stood in the doorways of their homes, watching with sad eyes as their loved ones left, riding through the gates, wondering if they would ever see them again in this life.

However, there were a small number who were not dressed in armour.

Kíli sat on his pony in his usual travelling clothes, clutching his reigns in his right hand while he checked the security of his quiver with his left for the umpteenth time that day. His fingers were restless, and needed something more than just holding the reigns to keep them occupied, and even though he knew his arrows were firmly attached to his back, he couldn't help but check just one more time.

"You know, if you do that one more time, I think I might just have to hit you."

Turning to the pony at his side, the younger dwarf smiled in embarrassment. "I can't help it, Fíli. You know how I get when I'm under pressure."

Fíli, unlike his brother, had been clothed in some of the smaller pieces of armour, the miss-matched materials of metal and leather making him look more like a patchwork quilt than a warrior, but the swords at his back and the look in his eyes spoke of a different story. Although he was to be a part of the task Kíli was going to carry out, he had the grace and stealth of a Mûmakil, and would be in charge of operations after the main mission had been accomplished.

Kíli, on the other hand, was to ride with a smaller group some distance behind them. His task, along with Aragorn, Eomarc and a few others, was somewhat more in the line of subtlety and stealth. They had the task of finding the location of the children, rescuing them from their captors, and sending a signal to the main force to show where the Dunlendings were hiding.

Though he had seen to tasks with more chance of failure than this one before, Kíli had never had the lives of children relying on the success of his mission before, and it seemed to put it in an entirely different light. Though he wouldn't admit it, he was terrified. These children of the Mark would be well guarded, and there was little doubt in his mind that his group would have only a small window in which to act. It seemed almost impossible, but failure was something that could not even be considered.

Reaching out across the gap between them, Fíli grasped the shoulder of his brother in a reassuring gesture and smiled, his wordless answer more than enough to calm the buzzing thoughts and doubts in the archer's heart and mind. Returning the gesture, Kíli recalled the last time he had been in such a situation.

In the hours before the battle, the dwarves of the Company had used the time they had to fit themselves with any armour they could find in Erebor. Although most of it was what remained of those whom had been… left behind, there was also a small armoury which had been left undisturbed. It was here where the two young dwarflings had prepared and said their farewells to one another, hoping against hope that they would live to see past the end of this battle. To see their Uncle on his rightful throne.

Though Thorin Oakenshield had not been able to become the ruler and King as they had imagined, and his reign and been both brief and fraught with war and madness, they had both survived, and they bore their scars from that day proudly.

Pulling back into their saddles, the two dwarves spurred their mounts onwards and out of the stronghold of the city and out onto the grass plains of the Eastfold. Leading their ponies through the masses of riders who milled about the grass lands and hills, they soon made their way to the banner of Thengel.

"Fíli! Kíli!" came the King's voice as they approached, "I was beginning to think that I was going to have to send someone to fetch you!"

Fíli laughed. "I apologise, my lord. We did not mean to keep you waiting."

Thengel waved off his apology with a quick shake of his head. "It is of no matter. You are here now, and that is all that can be deemed of any import." Turning back to the men who were gathered around him, the King of Edoras inclined his head. "You all know the reason why you are here, and you know that our task must not fail."

Several nodded their understanding and approval while others just kept their faces serious and fierce, watching their king with determination and loyalty.

Pulling his helm over his head, Thengel drew his sword. "Then may the Valar be with us. I will see you in my hall after the battle. I owe you all a drink. But until then, fight with honour and the strength left us by our ancestors!"

With that, the men cheered, and they turned their horses away and out to their various charges, leaving the Lord of the Rohirrim with his last few charges.

"Thorongil, Fíli, Kíli…" he glanced between the three of them, "You do not need me to tell you how important you task is." He put a hand on Aragorn's shoulder and nodded. "We're all counting on you."

-*-*-*-*-

It was under the dark of a stormy night that the battle between Eomarc's remaining riders and the Kings warriors began. Only the cover of a stormy night could hide the truth - that this was a carefully staged battle to lure the Dunlendings in false secrecy. Still... it was a fearsome sight to see two armies of Riders clash in the dark plain, the wind carried the noises of horses and clashing of steel through the night, ten times louder than in any day. The wind-torn clouds sometimes parted for the moon, the eerie silver light illuminating the dark horseback figures... if Kíli had not known this was a ruse, he would have believed it to be a fully-fledged battle as he crept through the dark with his brother and Thorongil.

However, there was no time to watch the banners ripple in the winds, or listen to the sounds of war; his task was at hand, and there would be little room for error. The lives of over a dozen children depended on him, and he would not allow their blood to run thick in his hands.

Some days before, after they had decided upon where the ruse battle was to take place, both he and Aragorn had scouted out this place, looking at the possible hiding places and the locations for a small number of armed men and children to avoid detection while having a full view of the battle that was to occur. Of all the places in that field and its surroundings, it seemed the long grass to the South was the most likely of hiding places for their foes and it was possible to showcase the slaughter of their fathers and brothers to the innocents.

Due to the winds that were pulling at the grass as well as the clouds, Kíli knew he would be able to traverse the area with greater ease than if it had been calm, the rustling of the rushes covering his own footsteps, and, more importantly, Fíli's. However, it made it next to impossible to see anything further than two feet in front of their noses; which was probably how he almost walked straight into one of the Dunlending warriors.

Had he not already had his knife in his hand, the dwarf was certain that he would not have had enough time to react, as no sooner had he noticed the enemy, than he deflected the foe's blade as it made its way towards his head. Using the man's momentum to his advantage, he forced the tip of his dagger in through the weak armour under the armpit, slicing through a major artery, before slitting his throat for good measure.

The warrior died without a sound, the blood pooling from his wounds, staining the mud. It was inevitable that Kíli would catch some on himself.

No bothering to signal back to the others, seeing as it would be next to impossible that they would see him anyway, he continued onwards, stepping over the still warm corpse, keeping his eyes open for any of the children.

Minutes passed, and still there had been no sign of the infants. Kíli began to worry. Was it possible that the children were not in fact here? Was it possible that this certainty they had all believed in was nothing but a lie? A trick to get them out in the open? If this were the case, then did this mean that the children were dead? He blanched at the thought, imagining their happy, playful little faces staring up at him, cold and lifeless.

Taking another step forwards, he brushed aside yet more of the troubling grass, slowly this time (he had learnt his lesson), and gasped.

Bright blue eyes stared up at him, peeking through the muddied hair and features of what was unquestionably a young girl, fear seeming to radiate from them as they flitted between his face and the knife. Quickly sheathing the blade and wiping as much blood as he could from his hands, he held them up to show he meant her no harm.

"Hello," he said as loudly as he dared, though he could tell his words could easily be lost to the wind if he were any quieter, "My name is Kíli. I'm going to take you back home."

The fear almost immediately vanished from her features at the mention of his name, and a small smile began to appear on her features. "Funny man?"

The dwarf beamed at the nick-name, overjoyed that the child remembered him. "Yes, that's right."

Suddenly, the girl threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her tears soaking into his hair. "I was so scared! They said that the King hated us! That he cast us out!"

"The King would never do such a thing. And I'm here now. I won't let anything happen to you, or the others. Okay?"

She sniffed, nodding into his shoulder.

Turning around, he spotted his brother peeking through the grass, his mien full of pride. "Now, I need you to be brave and let go of me and stay with my brother so I can help all the other little boys and girls. Can you do that for me?"

Glancing over his shoulder, the young girl smiled at the sight of the blond dwarf. "Uh-huh."

Unwinding her arms rom around his shoulders the young girl soon made her way towards Fíli.

Satisfied that the girl was safe, Kíli continued on his way, soon coming across yet another child that was clutching a crying babe to his chest, trying his best to calm it down. Once again, Kíli introduced himself and the boy was led back to the safety of his people, though not before leaving the dwarf with some troubling news.

"One of the men took Eomund with them. I think they wanted to make sure he didn't run away."

Kíli frowned. It was not completely unexpected, but knowing Eomarc's son was being watched so closely would bring some unavoidable problems. "Do you know where he might be?"

The boy frowned briefly before look off towards the battle. "The man took him that way, towards the fight."

Pushing down on his frustration, the dwarf smiled and sent the boy on his way with his thanks. He would have to discuss this with Eomarc, or Fíli at the least, before doing anything. It was possible that Eomund had more than one guard, and Kíli would not risk his life by being ill prepared.

It didn't take long for his brother to reach his side, the melee warrior reaching out to squeeze his shoulder in greeting.

"We've rescued most all of the younglings. The only ones missing are Eomund and one of the babes."

Kíli nodded. "Eomund must be guarding it."

"Aye. Any sign of him?"

"One of the boys told me they took him away to keep him from escaping. He's probably being guarded by a small number of Dunlendings closer to the battle."

"And I don't doubt that they told him of his father's suicide."

"Meaning we'll have to bring Eomarc with us or the child may not believe we are here to save him."

The blond nodded. "Come. We had best find him before it's too late."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after almost 2 years, another chapter emerges... with slight trepidation from the author.  
> Sorry for the lateness! The real world called (along with Uni work). I'm hoping to get this done within the next month or 2 though, so it shouldn't be too long until the long awaited end.


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